A couple of mediocre 'poems' for you all to read. I doubt they will incite spontaneous cheering or applauding…but here they are all the same.

Untitled 1.

Where were you? On the sofa,
With a love moments over.
Where was I? In a bed,
Kind of dying, kind of dead.

Where was truth? Hiding from view,
Replaced with a corruption, I never knew.
Where was love? Withering already,
Wilting and tilting, no longer steady.

Where were you? On the sofa,
With a love boiling over.
Where was I? In a bed,
Long done dying, long been dead.


Untitled 2.

Those terrible Sunday mornings,
Never a scrap in sight,
I'll go without, I do it out of spite.

Food has lost it's flavour,
And I refuse to bite.
I do myself no favours,
I should stay in all night.

Ashtrays all in a row,
But you know…I feel alright,
Because every Sunday morning,
Becomes a Sunday night.
Then the weekend’s lost behind me,
And I feel alright.

When the sun came out shining,
I couldn’t feel the hope,
I don’t enjoy whining,
But now I’m out of soap.

It’s good to feel dirty,
Yeah, it is good,
Because I feel alright.